Someone for Everyone
by Sir Jason Kidd Gray
Summary: Bound by duty and forsaking all bonds, Heimdall presents an obvious obstacle to Loki's plans to rule Asgard. Loki knows only one way around him, to strike at Heimdall's one weakness. When the prince toys with the gatekeeper, will he find punishment at Heimdall's hands…or something different? Will contain graphic het and slash sexual content and a very long plot
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I've wanted to write this story for some time, since I first saw Thor, because Heimdall and Loki had a really intense conflict going throughout the movie. Even in that first scene on the Bifrost, Loki was like the little kid who all the adults picked on; remember that line, "What happened to your silver tongue, Loki?" Loki seemed more than a little gay to me, and no offense to any gay people, but that's the least offensive way I can write that. **

**Another writer, lederra, encouraged me to write this story at long last with a story called "Loki's Punishment." This story is literally a "something for everyone" type story. There will be slash, het, and possibly group scenes in later chapters as Loki tries to ensnare Heimdall in his web of deceit and lies.**

**If this first chapter is well received, then I'll continue the story on a weekly basis. Please review and follow!**

* * *

_'The heavens are especially bright tonight,' _ Heimdall mused. In his usual post at the end of the Bifrost within the hammered palladium chamber that opened the portal to travel between the Nine Realms. Only the twinkling planets and the radiant, stoic stars kept Heimdall company that night, as they had every night during his tenure as Gatekeeper. _'What could the stars possibly tell me this night?'_

Heimdall sighed heavily and rested his folded, titanium atop the gilt palladium sword he wielded. It doubled as a key to the portal and—with the exception of Odin's royal staff—it was the only key to the portal to Yggdrasil in all of Asgard. Odin had entrusted the dark-skinned Asgardian with an important task in gifting Heimdall with key, and the task of Gatekeeper bore additional burdens. There was the constant vigilance, the isolation, and the hours of training alone for an invasion that was unlikely to come.

_'I have never regretted my taking of the oath to guard this realm, until of late. What is this strange yearning I have felt?'_

As close as the Gatekeeper stood to the edge of the Asgardian world, he did not fear death. _'Immortality is part of my Asgardian heritage. I would forsake it as soon as I would forsake my post here. I have lived far too long to be unaware of what I long for. Surely it is neither food nor wine nor sleep.'_

His golden eyes, always seeking and searching, located movement on the Bifrost bridge behind Heimdall. Composed of the sturdiest Asgardian glass and illuminated by the rainbow effect of the dozens of elements flowing through it, the Bifrost was a marvel of magical engineering in its own right. Heimdall and Odin alone understood the reason for the bridge: If Heimdall failed to close the gate to an invading force, the length of the Bifrost would serve to delay their rampage upon the homes of Asgard. If Heimdall died during his mission to protect Asgard, the Bifrost allowed Asgard time to assemble its defensive forces. But that was unlikely as the same gifts by which Heimdall had been commended to Odin allowed him to see Loki, the younger of Odin's sons, approach along the Bifrost.

"It is an ill omen when Odin's younger son comes to me in the wee hours of the morning." Heimdall did not need to turn to see the startled expression on Loki's face; his vision was just that acute. "What could possibly bring such a fortuitous encounter?"

Loki smirked. His green eyes gleamed like emeralds in the luminescence of the Bifrost, and his dark, shoulder-length hair framed his sallow, slender face. In his preferred vibrant green-and-black leather chest piece, black leather riding pants, and knee-high green leather boots, Loki projected a stark presence. From his posture to his sneer, Loki exuded an unremarkable arrogance. Neither of Odin's sons were recognized for their modesty or humility.

Loki stopped a few yards from Heimdall. "How fair you this evening, Heimdall?"

"In all the years since your birth, Loki Odinsson, you have never come to inquire about my health. You have never chosen to speak to me early in the morning, unless it suited some desire of yours. If not for those reasons alone, I wonder what query you truly wish to bring before me tonight."

"Heimdall, I'm quite wounded that you would accuse me of ulterior motives. Are we not friends?"

"For us to become friends, Loki, you would first have to understand what friendship is."

Heimdall's astute golden eyes didn't miss the flash in Loki's glittering green orbs. "I suppose you think you have a better grasp of the concept than I, Heimdall?"

"I can only report what I have seen, Loki. Friendship seems to be a more complex relationship than one would initially suspect, especially among the people of Midgard. While in Asgard trust is difficult to lose and easily gained, in Midgard, the situation seems quite reversed. It is most complicated."

"As always, your abilities…"

"What is your purpose here this evening, Loki?" Heimdall had grown impatient with Loki's distracting presence. Every second that he engaged the Asgardian prince in banter was a second of wasted vigilance.

Loki hesitated to respond. Deliberation crossed his ivory forehead, while Heimdall sighed impatiently, his golden gaze scrutinizing the far limbs of Yggdrasil and Loki's contemplative face. Finally Loki responded, "We are very much alike, Heimdall, you and I."

"I am a warrior; you are Asgard's trickster prince and premier mage. I differ from every Asgardian by merit of my darker skin and all-seeing eyes. You might be alone among the Asgardians only because you choose to be. How are we alike?"

"We are both lonely."

Heimdall scoffed. "Loki, you have a bed to sleep in, and you call home the best palace in all of Asgard. Your father and mother adore you. Your brother dotes upon you. For friends, you band together with Aladdin's fiercest and most heavily skilled warriors. How could you possibly be lonely?"

"There are things of this world that even your eyes miss, Heimdall."

"Go, run along, little prince. Go back to your magic, your family, and your home." Loki glared at Heimdall in reluctance to comply. Within a few seconds, the Asgardian prince turned on his heels and retreated down the Bifrost. Once Loki was out of range of his immediate eyesight, Heimdall folded his arms over his sword and focused his eyes upon the realm of the Vanir.

He was very lonely indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This chapter contains evil scheming, torture, and graphic sexual content. Pairing for this chapter is Loki/Sif. If you can't stomach it, don't read. You have been warned.**

* * *

_'Little prince, he called me. How dare he call me "little prince," he would __**never**__ dare to call Thor "little prince."' _Loki's face was carved with unmitigated rage as he strode into the elaborate palace of Odin late that night. His cape billowed behind him like a rolling tide of anger, and his face was set with fury as he strode down the length of the magnificent palace's main hall. Loki's footsteps echoed off the high ceiling and gilt walls. _'What does he take me for, an incompetent sewage rat, a common guttersnipe?'_

The palace guards watched Loki suspiciously. The dark-haired prince ignored them. Asgard had been secure for generations, and Odin's palace was the safest place in the realm because it was the Allfather's home. To Loki, the guards were pretty ornaments with their looming stature, muscular builds, and their polished armor. He had seen too many shirking their posts or carousing during times of celebration in the palace. Their opinions of him were less relevant than their lives.

He strode down a passage off the main corridor then turned left at a massive door so solid that even Thor's hammer couldn't penetrate it—or so Loki hoped. His emerald green eyes darted left then right. No one else observed him before the door. No one else was on the corridor with him. Loki stepped through the door and began to climb the winding stairs behind the door. After a climb that would have exhausted even Heimdall's endurance, Loki reached another set of sturdy doors, to which he touched his hand.

Grazed by his magic, the door dissolved to permit Loki entrance to the sumptuous chambers within. A bed, draped with ebony and emerald hangings, occupied the center of the wall opposite the door. Bookcase after bookcase yawned from ceiling to floor along the remaining walls. Two hearty tables on either side of the room supported unfurled scrolls of parchment, opened books, and a variety of liquids and powders in glass tubes. Besides the bed, there were only two four-legged, stiff-backed ebony armchairs in which to sit within the room. Carved into one wall and framed by the bookcases around it, there stood a fireplace with a lively fire to provide the room with its lone source of warmth and comfort.

Although his legs ached from the long walk and his brisk pace, Loki ignored the chairs and the bed and went to the fire. The younger Odinsson was hardly cold from his excursion. He framed his hands over the dancing flames to form a circle to form a circle, and closed his eyes in concentration. Within minutes, the circle formed by his hands crackled with energy and revealed a frozen landscape cloaked in eternal darkness. A pair of red eyes appeared in the window and stared from the stern blue face of a Frost-Giant. "Odinsson," it growled.

Loki opened his eyes. The spell was easy to perform but difficult to maintain. They did not have long to talk. "Haiki."

"Have you opened the portal as you promised? Or must our revenge continue to wait in this frozen world?"

"I have acquired the magic needed to open the portal into Asgard. But opening it must wait until the morning, when there is more energy to use." Haiki stared blankly at Loki. "It's a complicated process and takes too much time to explain. But I doubt you would understand even then."

"Very well, our revenge can wait until the morning. King Laufey will be most pleased with your assistance in retrieving the weapon."

Without another word, Loki allowed the window to close. "I don't give a damn about King Laufey's pleasure. This is a matter of my own pleasure." The slim prince rocked backwards with exhaustion from the spell he had woven and stumbled to his bed. "Speaking of my pleasure…"

Loki snapped his fingers. In a flash of light, the naked body of Lady Sif, a female warrior known to Thor and Loki from their childhood, appeared on Loki's bed. Her silky thighs were closed around her maidenhood and her folded arms concealed her supple breasts. Sif's dark locks, so similar to Loki's own, cascaded from her propped up head. Her blue eyes fixed upon Loki's green ones. "You called for me, my king?"

"I have need of your…talents again."

Sif and Loki shared a seductive smirk with each other. "It will be my pleasure to help you achieve your pleasure, my king."

"I thought we should try something new tonight."

Sif's blue eyes widened. "Do you not want me? Do you not find me desirable?" She sat up and stretched her long legs open, revealing an alluring pair of velvety lips between her thighs and her breasts as ripe as firm as peaches in the summertime. The way the light of the fireplace danced upon them, her breasts even had the complexion of peaches. "If you do not desire me, my king, then I have no reason for living."

"Don't be so melodramatic, my warrior whore. I simply require additional entertainment for this evening." Loki snapped his fingers again.

In another flash of light, Heimdall appeared on the opposite wall, bound, sweating, and shirtless. His gleaming helm, as important to Heimdall's identity as a helmet was to any other warrior, rested shamefully at his dangling feet. Heimdall's bare head with its close-cropped haircut hung with weariness. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face and the ignominy of his position, Heimdall's body was physically intimidating with chiseled arms, arms like sinewy boulders, and a thick neck. "Loki," he breathed raspily.

Loki reclined on his bed, propped on his arms. Sif crawled toward him and rested her head on his left shoulder. Her lips were tantalizingly close to his left ear, a spot she knew stimulated his orgasms. "You should not have uttered such venomous words tonight, Heimdall. You surely must have known there would be a price to pay for such behavior."

"I meant no harm by…" Loki flicked his right index finger in a slashing motion across Heimdall's chest. The dark Asgardian cried out as a thin, bloody wound appeared across his sculpted chest.

"Do not lie to me!" Loki growled. "My father would not suffer you to lie to him, Heimdall. I expect the same respect from you. Actually, I expect better." He flicked his finger again. The reward was doubled this time, as Heimdall grimaced from the pain and Sif nipped at Loki's ear. Loki's manhood stiffened immediately in his pants from the teasing caress of her lips. It required all of his concentration to keep from assaulting her mouth with his own.

"You would earn better respect from me, if you were a better man than your father. Or your brother, for that matter." Heimdall's golden eyes glared at Loki in a way that made the younger Odinsson feel belittled. Even as an illusion, the Gatekeeper was insolent and deprecating. Loki repaid his behavior with another wound, this time across his rippling abs.

"My father is a doddering fool, infatuated with my moronic brother's prowess in battle. If Thor is crowned, then Asgard will suffer the idiocy of his reign. I would have thought you were a thinking man, Heimdall, and not so easily swayed by my brother's handsome face, strong physique, and empty head." Loki created another slash on Heimdall's abs.

The increasing collection of superficial wounds leaked with the golden blood of the dark Asgardian. Loki grinned at Heimdall's wincing face as sweat mingled with the open wounds. "I want you so badly, my king," Sif whispered in Loki's ear. Her hands ghosted along his torso to the hardness in his trousers. "Take me now, I beg of you."

Using his left hand, Loki reached backwards and put his hand between Sif's thighs. Her breath hitched as his cold fingers glided higher along the smooth planes of her legs, and she gasped needily when Loki's fingers touched her wetness. While his fingers pressed against her lips and stretched her slit open, Sif's hands stroked Loki's impatient hard-on. Her hot breath and wet tongue plied his left ear, tempting Loki to defile Sif with wanton abandon.

Heimdall glared at Loki's display of dominance with disgusted eyes. "You claim to be a better man than your brother, but you would make a whore of a maid of Asgard more readily than he. Thor is a man of honor and integrity. You lie and deceive just as you breathe, Loki. If you sat upon the throne, you would lead Asgard into devastation."

Loki snarled in rage and stood up. "You…think…Thor…is…better?" With each word, another slash appeared on Heimdall's ebony skin. "You think he has not used maids of Asgard as whores? Or reveled in drunkenness? I am _far_ more self-controlled and intelligent than he is!" Breathless, Loki crossed the room to Heimdall's nearly unconscious body. When he did not raise his head, Loki forced Heimdall's golden eyes to meet his green ones.

"You worry that I would use her as a whore?" He pointed to Sif, who was panting wantonly while she stroked her wetness with two nimble fingers. "Your reason for worry, Heimdall, is your own desires. It must be quite lonely on the Bifrost, day after day, year after year. And yet there are so many nubile young women within reach."

Loki grabbed Sif by the back of her neck and forced the lady warrior to kneel before Heimdall's splayed form. "She's practically close enough for you to touch, isn't she?" Heimdall gritted his teeth in silence. "Fortunately, she only has eyes for me, Heimdall. She only wants to touch me, not you, and certainly not _Thor._ And I will use her as a whore, according to my will."

Pushing Sif to the floor by the back of her head, Loki pushed down his trousers so hastily that the soft fabric ripped where it met his boots. His erection, about seven inches in length, was pale pink with the blood that had caused it to become engorged and stood proudly within a forest of soft black pubic hair. "Watch me use her as my whore, Heimdall. Watch and be envious." With that, Loki knelt behind Sif, spread her legs open, and drove his member into her wet slit.

Sif gasped in a moan of pleasure as Loki thrust into her. "Yes, my King, take me. I am yours, King Loki."

Loki thrust harder into Sif and wrapped his right hand around Sif's throat. She grunted, and soon the room filled with sound of Loki's skin slapping against Sif's. Her wanton moans increased the sensitivity of his pleasure; the smell of her opened womanhood drove his sensory pleasure higher; and the feel of his skin on Sif's was amazing. Sif was not all softness like some maids of Asgard nor was she so firm as to resemble a male warrior. As Sif drove Loki into higher and further sexual pleasure, the younger prince of Asgard thought to last as long as possible within her and so add to Heimdall's torture.

But then, they both existed only for his satisfaction. Their flesh-and-blood counterparts were far from Loki, and there was no reason to refrain from gaining his own gratification quickly. With a nip of Sif's shoulder, Loki climaxed deep inside Sif.

He lay atop her for a few moments then stood up. Loki shamefully concealed his flaccid manhood by pulling up his trousers and glared at Heimdall. "You resent me, don't you, Heimdall?"

"No, Loki, I pity you."

"I don't want your pity. I will have your fear and respect." Loki made a slashing motion with his hand. Heimdall's head toppled from his shoulders and rolled on the floor to stop at Loki's feet. On the floor, Sif's eyes widened with surprise. Before she could scream, Loki pointed at her forehead, and Sif immediately disappeared. With a snap of his fingers, Heimdall disappeared as well. Loki stumbled to his bed to recover his lost energy.

When he awoke the next morning, Loki was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks to reviews from koryandrs, and to followers Decepticon-silverstreak, Disaray, and Paula M, I really feel motivated to continue this story. I hope you all enjoy the remainder of the story and continue to read, follow, and review. **

**Warning: This chapter contains sexual innuendos, hints of violence, and sexual content. If you can't stomach it, don't read. You have been warned. Pairings: Thor/Sif, one-sided Loki/random Frost Giant.**

* * *

As the new day dawned over Asgard with twin suns illuminating the golden gleam of its towers and the perfection of its streets, the Asgardian prince Thor—known to Midgardians as the God of Thunder for his terrific powers and overwhelming presence—awoke to the warm brilliance of the suns and the soft warmth of the Lady Warrior Sif beside him. She stirred at the same time as Thor and brazenly sat upright in his bed, naked except for the sheet covering her torso.

"Greetings, your Highness…Or should I say, your Majesty? After all, today is the day you'll become the new King of Asgard, ascending the throne to take the place of the All-Father." Sif stretched out her lithe frame, casually allowing the sheet to slip off her naked torso. "And when you are the King, I will be the new Queen."

Thor stretched out his sinewy right arm to embrace Sif's warm body and raised his right hand to fondle her bare breast. "Wouldn't you rather be the new Consort to the King?"

With her shirtless body bared to Thor, Sif turned to the prone Asgardian. "Do you mean to tell me that I am not fit to replace your mother as Queen of Asgard?"

Thor's callused fingers danced on the supple flesh of Sif's breasts, tweaking her areolas into hardened nipples. She glared at him with cold blue eyes, but did not stop him from caressing her breasts. Instead, she denied him what he sought: evidence of her pleasure. Sif's eyes did not flutter; her breath did not quicken; and her nipples did not harden for him.

"Queen Freya has reigned so long here in Asgard," Thor explained. "She has established a reputation for a reign of dignity, grace, and hospitality. I don't think that you are prepared to replace her."

"You mean," Sif pushed away Thor's hands, "that you don't think I am the equivalent of your mother's goodness."

Thor sat up, encircled Sif's waist with an arm, and pulled her body on top of his. Her breasts pressed into the muscular plain of Thor's chest. "My mother came to the throne on my father's arm. Before that, she was still an unsullied maiden. You would be neither."

"If you do not mean to wed me," Sif tossed aside her sheet and stood up, "then why would I continue to provide you with pleasure?"

With a growl, Thor seized Sif around her waist and lifted her onto the bed. He slammed her down. Sif retaliated with a gruesome slug across Thor's face, but his face did not bruise. Thor's head dipped into the soft scoop of Sif's shoulder, and his lips nibbled generously upon her slender neck. Sif's back arced and she gasped as his tongue elicited waves of pleasure from the sensitive spot on her neck, but she still denied him the moans Thor sought.

"Become my consort." One of Thor's heavy hands grabbed one of Sif's breasts. "Gratify me as your King." His mouth found the nipple of Sif's other breast. "And I will give you a seat beside me upon the throne of Asgard." Thor's other hand sought and found Sif's clitoris. As his fingers rolled around the button, Sif gasped, writhed, and moaned lustily. Thor felt his hands moisten from Sif's wet arousal, and his manhood stiffened in response.

"Plow me like a beast plows a field, Thor," Sif demanded.

* * *

On the far side of Asgard, Loki's hands wove a magical spell, designed to duplicate everything about the Bifrost that made it the most efficient method of transportation in the Nine Realms. He had worked on the spell for hours because its composition was so very delicate. If the harmony of the spell—the magical signature that guaranteed it was what Loki needed it to be, a duplication of the Bifrost—failed, then the spell itself would fail. And he could not afford to let the spell fail, if his plan was to succeed.

_'It has to succeed, and at exactly the right time. The future of Asgard depends on my success.'_ With a flash like lightning, a portal suddenly erupted into existence where Loki's hands had been circling to weave his spell. He emptied his mind into the creation of the portal and expanding its size. If he failed to create the portal exactly the right size, then his associates—as Loki referred kindly to them—would fail to reach Asgard.

First one knobbly blue hand then an arm and next an entire torso emerged through the portal. As though climbing from a deep well, the Frost Giants—three of them—lifted themselves through the portal and came to rest on the ground before Loki. All three towered over Loki, and possessed the same bared blue skin, evil-looking red eyes, and muscular bodies. Only their loincloths suggested they had clothes, because they lacked any body hair.

"Tell me something," Loki drawled as the Frost Giants gathered around him. Their height alone intimidated the usually unassailable Asgardian prince. "You only wear loincloths. How do you keep your balls and prick from freezing and falling off in Jotunheim?"

"We have stout blood," said one Frost Giant.

"And we always find somewhere warm to put our pricks," added another Frost Giant.

"Would you like a demonstration?" the third one asked.

Loki suddenly realized how insignificant he was compared to the Jotuns. With barely a semblance of his sense of losing control, Loki calmly suggested, "We don't have enough time. How about you provide me with a demonstration when you've finished your objection of getting the weapon?"

"Very well," agreed the first Jotun, "we will be most pleased to show you how to keep warm in Jotunheim when we return."


End file.
